


One Step Forward, Two steps into the Abyss

by XIntensity_FallsX



Series: Reincarnated Falls AU [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Billford - Freeform, Character with PTSD, Child Neglect, Fighting, Human Bill Cipher, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Modern AU, More of everything, One Sided Relationships, Road Trips, Stanley and Stanford have a very difficult relationship with their father, The reincarnated part of this AU makes it's presence known here, Threats of Violence, Young Stan Twins, implied domestic issues, more conman bromance, more of Bill's back story, some mildly disturbing content in reference to Bill and Stan's past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-21 08:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XIntensity_FallsX/pseuds/XIntensity_FallsX
Summary: Stanford Pines can't return to Gravity Falls as he planned. Not before he's thrown a graduation party, of course- which Stanley and Bill are invited to. Before they can step foot in Glass Shard Beach, they face many demons along the way.Part three of an AU where Stanley gets to Gravity Falls first with Bill Cipher in tow.





	1. The Road Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so I broke my one rule. Only post finished works. If I posted this fic in entirety, it would have been close to fifty pages long and probably taken an additional month to finish. Given the subject matter, it also may have been difficult to get through as the second part of this fic will be decently heavy.
> 
> I suggest reading the other fics before reading this one, as they all tie in together.
> 
> As always, Bill in this story is reincarnated into a human. He's not quite the same character as a result. Please take this into consideration when you read the story!
> 
> In keeping with tradition, I am dedicating this story to my business partner and friend, Melissa. We have been on road trips before, and our adventures inspired the feel of this story. Thanks for being my friend, and putting up with my hatred for the Phone Booth song :)

 Hot pink shot across the sky, followed by purples, with touches of darkness slowly encroaching along the edges. Stanley Pines watched it, his eyes half closing as he let out a sigh. The last of the tourists were gone for the day, the only noise remaining came from them and the casual rolling piece of litter. "Nice sunset." He shifted in his spot on the side walk in front of the Mystery Shack, his back resting against the worn red bricks. Bill was seated next to him, his long legs sprawled out lazily across the broken concrete. A cup of coffee was resting on his knee, still full from when Stanley brought it over. Steam curled out from the vent at the top of Bill's cup, getting lost in the air the further it climbed upward. "How is it your coffee stays hot all the damn time. All the damn time!" 

Grinning, Bill waved his long fingers at him. "Magic, pal. Want me to heat up yours?" 

"Nah. I don't want your weird hocus pocus making this coffee taste any more funky than it already does." He looked to the cup, seated beside his thigh. "Eh, Bill—You okay with talking to me about the magic stuff? I mean, you and I never talked about it before. I didn't want to bug you about it because I figured it was your business. But... I... I see you do stuff whether you know you're doing it or not, and funky things happen with your shadow er—or lack of one. But you ate a big ass spider last week and admitted to it. So is this like your 'weird magic crap' coming out to me?" 

"Well..." Bill drew up his leg and bent it, throwing a lanky arm over his knee. "Yeah, I guess so. My last foster dad told me to only tell people about my "weirdness" if I trusted them. I trust you. I mean, you always knew anyway, and I figured I didn't have to explain it to you since you never asked. But with me interested in your brother, and you being my friend for so long... I should maybe talk some more. I mean, Stanford saw me with six arms, and I know Fiddleford is aware is something is up. They're not stupid, and I'm not going to waste people's time pretending that they are." He shrugged a shoulder. "There's no use in hiding it, and I feel... I don't know, better? I feel better telling you."  

Stanley stared at Bill, who seemed fully content in looking down at the little lines in the broken concrete. His finger traced over one, one by one, with his shoulders relaxed. "Yeah, I... I can see that, Bill. I'm glad I could help in that. Just uh, as you know, I wouldn't expand that knowledge to any one else."  

"Nah, just you guys." He grinned at him. "I'm going to get mushy-"  

"No- hold on."  

"Aw come on, I want to continue opening up to you. What, you can't take it?" Bill nudged him in the shoulder, snickering. "Come on." 

"No, no. Really. Look. We've got a limocoming right for us! Feel like opening up shop for some lost bag of mone-" Stanley gestured toward the large black limousine cruising slowly down the street. The license plate read NRTHWST1, and gleamed in the setting sun. "Ugh. No. Never mind." Before he could say another word, the limo came to a stop in front of them. The door opened up, and out came Preston Northwest. His suit was pressed, the creases were razor sharp in the black material. Every hair on his head was placed in a specific way, despite the wind's effort to move it. When he smiled, his teeth were beyond white. Stanley threw his hand up to block the view of him and his shiny teeth. "Preston Northwest. What do you want?" 

"Ah, Stanley Pines. The driver of the get away chariot that saved my life last week. I'm glad you're here."  

Stanley looked to Bill, who frowned at him in return. "Yeah...? And why's that, pal?"  

"I have a gift for my savior! I love having an audience when I give gifts." 

"Gift?" Bill and Stanley asked at the same.  

"Yes!  A gift. Not just any gift, mind you. A very personal present."  

Bill and Stanley both frowned. "A very personal present from Preston?" Bill asked as his frown dug deeper into his face. "Look, buddy. I got your watch, but if you'll leave me alone you can have it ba-" 

"Now, William. Which one's your shop?" Preston extended his hand down in a swoop to help Bill up. 

"My name is Bill." Bill stared at the hand, and then back up at Preston. "Not Willy, Liam, Billy or Will. Most certainly  _not_  William." He did not take his hand, standing up from his spot. He helped Stanley to his feet. 

"Oh, I see. Well, we'll work on it! No one starts off as perfect."  

Bill and Stanley's expressions shifted once more. Both of their brows furrowed, their lips pressed into thin lines. Stanley stepped forward, blocking Bill. "Yeah, we like it that way. So how 'bout you get into your perfect limo, with your perfect teeth, and your stupid suit and get the hell out of here? Ya know, before our imperfections rub off on you." 

No words passed through them, no discourse drifting through the late spring air. Only the thrum of the limousine's engine was the constant sound. Stanley's hand tightened into a fist, while Bill stood up straighter and squared off his shoulders. Preston's smile never wavered, nor did he make any move at all. "Gentleman. Please. I mean no harm, and if I did do you some harm, I am truly sorry. I merely meant to give you a gift, if I may."  

Stanley stared at Preston, scowling hard. "...It's up to Bill."  

"Fine." Bill's voice rose up an octave higher than Stanley could recall ever hearing. "And then you go."  

"Very good! Please, Bill, if you will." Preston gestured to Bill's shop.  

"Of... course." He frowned and started off toward his shop's door. One of Preston's servants- Stanley assumed him to be a butler- handed Preston a brown paper wrapped package. Stanley eyed it for a moment, noting it's large, flat rectangular shape. He pursed his lips, but said nothing as they followed Bill into his shop. 

The dust drifted through the air, getting caught by the setting sun. It glittered before it passed into shadow. Stanley watched it, and then whatever ever other oddity that caught his eye. 

"Now, you must be curious what's in this package."  

Bill looked at the package, his shoulders slowly falling. He rubbed his temples. "Well, if it's not filled money-" 

"Of  _course_  you're curious!" Preston shoved the package into Bill, which all but forced him to take it. "Open it, open it."  

"Yeesh, I'm going." Bill slid his long finger along the brown paper, it falling away slowly to reveal a custom oil painting of Preston saving Bill from large, frightening spiders. Preston was standing triumphant, holding a gory baseball bat in his hand while Bill clung to his leg as he clutched on to the gold watch. "... _Wow_." 

"I know, it's a fantastic rendition of what happened in the woods, and I did not want you to forget about what happened on the day you and I first met! It's surely a story that will be told again and again-"  

Stanley's laughter ripped through the air, and through Preston's words. He was holding on to his stomach, nearly doubled over in a fit. "Oh—oh, that's  _hilarious._ I want that in my shop! WOW, talk about your delusions of grandeur! You sure do take the cake, pal!" 

Preston's demeanor remained as calm as ever. "Oh, I think Bill and I remember it the same way. I'm not a forgetful person, but I suppose you're right. No one's perfect. I may have also forgotten about how much money I have, some how, as it's very vast. So much so, that buying up this street and bulldozing your shops would be a lark." 

Stanley's laughter fell.  

"Now. Let's try that again. This is a painting of my 'rescue' in the forest. In reality, I rescued you. ...It's really nothing personal, Bill, but a Northwest is not weak. You don't have the same... reputation... that I do. It's a thing that needs to be protected, and requires some maintenance. It's a curse, really. So! Where shall we hang this piece?" 

"...Right there on the wall." Bill gestured to the wall adjacent to his teeth filled window.  

"Oh! What a good place. Looks like you have something already hanging there. I'll just remove it for you." Preston strolled over, taking the painting from Bill's hands. He plucked the frame from the wall, and looked it over. He chuckled and held it up. "A graduation diploma from middle school? Couldn't find your other ones?" He stuck the painting on the wall with a laugh, waiting for an answer with Bill's framed diploma in his hands. 

Stanley watched as Bill's brown skin turned pink. His jaw was shut tight. "Bi-"  

Preston eyed Bill, when no immediate answer came from him. He eyed his tight lipped expression. "Did you not go to college?" When no answer came, he raised a brow. "...High school? Oh, that's rich. Do you even know how to read that watch you took from me? Well. Rest assured, my large brain is enough to take care of both of us. Though, I must say, you've done rather well for yourself. Given your  _circumstances_." 

Bill's fingers dug into the fleshy part of his palm. With each passing second, he dug in further until his skin no longer fought him. Bits of red flowing out from Bill's palm caught Stanley's attention. As he reached out for Bill, a loud boom from outside shook the shop's window. The skulls rattled, and smoke drifted by while all of the servants who were in the limousine came rushing in to the shop.  

"Sir! The limo! It burst into flames, and exploded! I don't—I don't know  _how,_ but you need to come out!" Stanley assumed he was the driver, based on his uniform. Whomever he was, it did not matter. Preston followed him out, leaving behind Bill and Stanley. He went over to Bill's door, locking the dead bolts. The click hung in the still air, as Stanley pressed his forehead to the door.  

" _I'm not stupid_." He said, his fists trembling. "I'm not. I'm not stupid." 

Stanley walked back over to him, grabbing hold of his arms. Bill released his fingers from their punishing grip, the tips were sticky and red with blood. "You're not stupid, Bill. It's  _okay_." 

"M'not stupid, Stanley." Bill's voice cracked. He looked to Stanley with a wide eye, raw, and glossy. "I had to leave. I didn't get to finish high school. They were going to find me, they had questions about what I can do and what I am, I ran. I ran and ran like my foster dad said to do because he was scared for me too. I was only  _sixteen_. I wanted to finish, I wanted to go to college but I can't- I  _can't_ , Stanley. T-they're going to find me." His whole body shook, his eye looking right throught Stanley. "They're gonna find me. They're going to take me away. They're never going to let me go. Never never never never." He sucked in deep breaths with a straining, gasping sound.  

"They're not gonna find you!" Stanley let go of Bill's arms in favor of grabbing his shoulders. "They're not, I swear. You're safe. You're going to stay with me tonight, and it's going to be  _fine_. Beyond that... We're the smartest guys I know. We don't need diplomas. You ran away, and I got kicked out. We both didn't finish. Who cares! We turned out okay! Okay?" Arms, four too many, wrapped around in him a hug. The hands, all six of them, were tight gripped and refusing to budge. There was no verbal answer from Bill, save for the slowing gasps for breaths. The tremors stopped, the hands lessened and vanished until there were only two left. 

Bill pulled away, his cheek streaked with tears and bits of his tight curls clung to the wetness. He nodded his head in a gesture that was far too hard and fast, as if he were trying to shake the last of what was bothering him right out of his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. M'sorry, Stanley. I didn't mean to lose it like that. There's very few things that I can't... I can't brush off." He wiped his eye with the back of his hand. "That's one of im'." 

"Don't mention it. Go and get your bag. We stick together." Stanley noted the distant sounds of wailing sirens. "Uh, did you blow up the limo?"  

Bill shrugged a shoulder. "Well, yeah. He had it coming." 

"You are one scary dick, Bill." 

- 

Stanford Pines strolled down the hallway of his family home in New Jersey. The peeling wall paper hidden by many pictures of Shermie was nothing new. They had only grown in number, as his youngest brother loved being photographed. He was here to gather some of his things before taking them back to Gravity Falls. He had only been home for a day, enough to unpack his journal on his old school desk, a sketch book, and a few other things to make his visit more homey before he had to go again. He opened the door to the room he used to share with Stanley, only to find his mother and youngest brother hunched over his desk and journal. "Wha-hey! Are you guys reading my journal? Come on, that's-"  

"My boy has a boyfriend!" Ma Pines turned around and beamed at him, holding open the page he had written about Bill Cipher. " _And_  he's in my line a work! Who woulda thought, my studious son, finding love with a fortune teller! It's so romantic!" 

Stanford felt heat crawl all the way up his neck and on to his face. "Ma--"  

"He seems reallllly cool, Stanford! Is he coming to your graduation party? I want to meet him!" 

"W-wait! Wait." Stanford held up his hands, looking to his mother's proud expression, to Sherman's excited one. "Graduation party?" He was supposed to be returning to Gravity Falls this weekend to continue setting up at Stanley's. He was supposed to be seeing  _Bill_.   

"Oh, we forgot to tell you! We're having a party for you this coming weekend! The whole family is coming, and I've sent an invite to your friend Fiddleford. Shermie, honey, can you go downstairs and a quick check on how many drinks we have? We're going to need more, but I want to get a good count before we go shopping for the party."  

"Y-you know, that's not necessary- I don't need a party, I just want to head back to-" 

"Sure, ma!" Sherman ran past them both, heading down the hallway. Once he was gone, their mother got up from Stanford's chair, and shut the door.  

"I want to invite Stanley. B-but... I don't have his address. And even if I did, I don't know if it'll get to him in time. I didn't know about your boyfriend either. Can you call them, and tell them? I want them here, I miss my Stanley- your father be damned." 

Stanley rubbed at the back of his neck. "I can try, Ma. I can't promise you anything. Stanley's Stanley, and I doubt Bill will come if he doesn't, and vice versa. They're very close." 

"Well, I'm going to leave you to do that then." She stood up and placed the journal in his hands. "Here's your diary back, sweetie. The graduation party is this coming Saturday. It'll be your going away party too. Tell them to come by Friday night if they want to get here early!" 

"It's a journal, Ma." Stanford frowned and held it tightly in his hands. He waited until she left and the door was shut once more to put it back down on the desk. He looked at it briefly and sighed, moving it to a completely different location for safe keeping. He sat his lap top on the desk, pulling it open in order to contact Bill. It was a moment before Bill picked up and his face showed on the screen. He paused for a moment, frowning at the tired smile he was given. "Hi Bill. Long day?" 

"Hey Sixer! Uh, long hour, is more like it. My place got a new, hideous oddity I'll be looking to find a cover up for. And I've got hand wounds! See?"  

When Bill held up his palms and the fleshy, crescent shaped marks were visible on the screen, he shuddered. "Bill, those are fairly deep. What happened?" 

"Oh, you know. Annoying rich guy I shoulda let be eaten by spiders came by, and yada yada yada- I have an ugly painting in my fortune telling parlor I can't burn now. I'll figure it out though, I'm resourceful. That kind of stuff." 

"Um, no- I don't know. You said "yada yada yada" right over the important part. You should really put something on those, you don't want to get an infection." 

"What are you, my mom?" Bill frowned at him. "It's fine, your brother's getting the first aid kit. I'm staying with him tonight." 

"O-oh. I'm glad, but are you okay? I mean, really okay? You don't seem like yourself-"  

"I'm fine. Look! Here he is!" Bill was suddenly gone from the screen as Stanley's tee shirt filled it.  

"Bill! Bill? Come on, don't—ugh. Hi, Stanley. I’m not upset to see you or anything." 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not Bill." The computer screen was soon filled with Stanley's face. "Look, he's fine. We just had to deal with a loser threatening our existence out here. And before you get upset, we deal with that kinda crap all the time. Every week there's some new developer wanting to come in and buy us out, or intimidate us. It's nothing we can't handle, having our night ruined once in awhile. Bill's cleaning out his hands at the moment, so we're fine. I think I know how to take care of your boyfriend, Sixer." 

"I-I- I... I don't... I just wish I was with you guys is all. I could have helped." Stanford ran a hand through his thick hair, as Stanley watched on with a skeptical look on his face. 

"Uh, yeah.  _Helped_. Look Ford, it's okay. Don't beat yourself up about stuff that's already done." He shrugged a shoulder. "So uh, what's up? Why'd you call? Or is this, ya know, "boyfriend stuff" that I don't need to know about and also don't want to know about. Biiiig emphasis on the last part of that sentence there." 

Stanford felt his face heat up again. "W-well, Ma said she's throwing me a graduation party this weekend and she wants you and Bill to come." Silence fell over them. Stanford chewed on his bottom lip, drumming his fingers on the side of his leg. He watched Stanley's face go neutral, his jaw ticking on one side as if he was wanting to speak. Several minutes passed, until the words burbled out of him as fast as they came to him. "I know with what happened that you might not want to go, but it would mean a lot to me if you did. Ma really misses you, and you haven't gotten to see Shermie. I mean, I-I get it but-"  

"And whose fault is that?" Stanley's voice was raw and rough. Bill's phone was dropped on what Stanford assumed to be the couch. He was forced to stare helplessly up at the ceiling of the Mystery Shack.  

"Stanley? ...Bill? Hello?" He called out, and then went quiet as he heard them both speaking in the distance. Stanley's tone was hard, and broken while Bill's was more even. Their words were a fury of sound, mostly from Stanley. He cursed silently as they were too far away from where he was to hear them, to help Bill, or to calm Stanley down. Finally, they moved close enough for him to make out the conversation. He tried to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat before they could escape out. 

"And what makes you think I wanna go and see the people who threw me out?! What's that gonna prove?! It's gonna mess me up, it's gonna bring back a whole bunch of stupid stuff I buried back to the surface, and I don't want to deal with that! I closed the door on them, just like they did on me!" Stanley's voice hitched. "They wouldn't have known if I was alive or dead, and they wouldn't have cared- so why? Why would I care to ever see them again?!  I wasn't good enough for them back then, what makes you think I'm going to be good enough now?" Stanley's words came out like a heavy chain, with each link clanging down on the ground and in Stanford's mind. 

"Damn it Stanley! Don't you think I understand? I get it! I do. I really do. But are you the bigger man or not?" 

Stanford blinked at Bill's words. 

"...What did you just say to me?"  

"Are you a bigger man than your father, or not? Yes or no, simple question- easy answer."  

Stanford's hands were immediately on his lap top screen, as if he could push through the window and climb out in Oregon. His heart thudded in his chest as he hoped to not see Bill come sailing over the couch. 

"Of  _course_  I'm the bigger man! I'm the biggest damn man around! I survived, I built a shop, I run a business- and I'm going to go to New Jersey and hug my Ma and see my little brother! He can't kick me outta my family when I'm an adult! I'll show him! Tell Stanford we're coming. But we're not staying at the house. We'll get a motel or somethin'. Whatever. I'm taking a shower." 

Bill's face came into view as he looked down over the couch at Stanford's image on the phone screen. His black hair hung down occasionally getting in the way of his face. " _There_ you are. Thought you might have hung up during all of that noise." His smile was bright, and Stanford felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight. Bill climbed back over the couch, and his view was disrupted when the phone was picked up again. "Sorry Fordsy. It's been a rough day for the both of us. Lots of emotional hoopla and other such nonsense. We're alright though, I promise. We keep making emotional break throughs, though! That's healthy." 

Stanford watched as Bill pushed a curly black lock out of the way of his face. His lips were moving, but he did not hear him. He was too caught up in watching how Bill's lips moved, and how soft his hair happened to look. He did catch how worn he happened to look once the immediate allure wore off, and the bloodshot appearance of his eye. He swallowed thickly. What if Bill was explaining what was wrong, and he was busy not paying attention? He winced and cleared his throat. "I—I'm really sorry, Bill. I didn't catch that." 

"Yeah, I know. You got caught up in my incredibly good looks. I wasn't actually talking, I was just moving my mouth like I was while you gave me the starry eyed look." 

"Wh-" His face burned and his eyes widened. Bill however, was smiling ear to ear. 

"D'aw, look at you with your red face. I'm going to squish your cheeks when I see you at the party this weekend. This will be the perfect time to go on some of  those dates you owe me. What do you say, think you've got time to show me around your home town?" 

Stanford adjusted his glasses, let out a deep breath, and nodded. "O-of course. Maybe we can go and catch a drive in movie-" 

"Drive in movie? What is that?!" Bill sat up, his eye wide.  

Surprise. Real, actual surprise and wonder was all over Bill's face. "Wow. I... I thought you would have seen or done pretty much everything. ...Which is honestly a stupid thought. I don't know why I actually said that out loud, ha ha. I mean, no one can do everything. Even when you're as incredible as you- And I'm still talking, this is... this is sad. Ugh." 

" _Stanford_. What is a drive-in movie?" 

Stanford blinked, looking at Bill's curious expression. It was as if Bill did not hear any of what he babbled about, or at least actively chose not to react to them. He swallowed, and cleared his throat. "It's a movie you see outside, that you drive up to in a car to watch. They broadcast the sound to your car radio so you can hear the movie. Stanley used to take a bunch of the girls he was dating to the drive in." 

" _Oooh_ , and since we're dating we should go too. I get it." Bill smirked. "How much of this movie are we  _actually_ going to see, Sixer?" 

"Um, all of it?" Stanford's voice was small. "I'm sorry, Bill. I'm not really good at this sort of thing, you know I've never had a date before- the most I ever had was a drink thrown in my face at prom night and a horrible prank played on me in high school. I couldn't even do anything when a girl actually liked me! You're the first person who has ever taken the time to be patient with me. I don't know what to do, I get tongue tied half the time when I look at you- and I have no idea why you even put up with any of this when you can find some one far better-" He was not looking at the web cam any longer, all the while his face burned with shame. 

"Hey hey hey. Whoooa. Whoa. Hold the phone, IQ. I mean really though, don't put the phone down and look at me.  _Always_ look me in the eye when we're talking. Who the hell took all of your confidence away, huh? Name names, Sixer."  

He looked up to the phone screen, one brown eye, and then the other. Bill was there, of course, with his brows knitted and his plump lips set in a soft frown. His finger tips grazed the screen of the lap top, trailing down Bill's face in a gesture only he saw. "Only everyone, save Stanley and... and you. I'm a freak, Bill. The extra fingers made life so much harder for me, I mean—I like the challenge in all, but-" 

"Is that all?" 

"I-is...I what?" Stanley blinked at the screen. 

"Your fingers." 

"Is... isn't that everything?" 

"Nah! It just means your more evolved is all. Look at me! I'm pretty evolved with all the stuff I can do. Now look at us. I got you, you got me. Everything's cool, Six. You have got to stop carrying around all that baggage. Lose it at the airport. Burn it in a tire fire. It doesn't matter, so long as it's gone. And, and- if you think I'm done with that bit of choice knowledge, prepare to have your socks knocked right back off by your old pal Bill." 

Stanford did not fight the smile working it's way on to his face. "What do you have, Bill?" 

"I've named your extra fingers." 

Stanford stared at Bill's grinning face for quite a long while before speaking. "I... I don't... what?" 

"Your right one is Mr. Phantasmagoria and the Fantastic Five." 

"Phantasma-" 

"And your  _left_  one is Eagle Two." 

Stanford blinked, his eyes wide as he stared at Bill. The other man seemed proud of himself, his smirk sliding across his face effortlessly with the more time that passed by. When he went to speak, he let out a bark of laughter. He covered his mouth with his hand to stop the urge to snicker. However, it broke through and he burst out in gales of laughter. "Oh  _Bill_ , that's... that's the most ridiculous thing anyone ever said to me and... and... I love it. Thank you. No one's ever named my extra fingers before!" 

"Alright,  _alright_. That is far too much flirting on my couch for my liking."  

Stanford straightened up when he heard Stanley's voice, frowning when Bill's face was suddenly gone from view and replaced with Stanley. "Er- Can I at least say goodbye?"  

"Text him. Oh, and since the two of you were flirting the whole damn time and no actual discussion happened, we're coming to your party. Text me the details and the time. We gotta plan getting there. See ya, Sixer." 

With the phone call officially ended, Stanford sat back in his desk chair. He looked down at his fingers, wiggling them. He smiled down at them. "Mr. Phantasmagoria and the Fantastic Five it is." 

- 

Morning light flooded Stanley's small kitchen. Bill was on his phone, scrolling through various flights. "I'm thinking flying might be out of our budget, Stanley. We're a little on the poor side, and we did not buy tickets far enough in advance to save any sort of money. How's driving looking for you?" 

"Looking like it's going to take two days to get there by car if we don't pause to sleep or eat." Stanley sat the tablet down on the table. "We don't exactly have all the luxury of time, either. If we want to get there and be human beings, we're going to have to leave tomorrow. That way, we'll get there by Friday. Ugh. We're going to miss a lot of possible business for this trip. Thankfully it's not busy tourist season." 

"Yeah, Summerween's in a few weeks- we've got the time." Bill pushed away from the table. "Alright. I'll go and grab some clothes and other stuff for the trip. Figure we'll leave on Sunday?" 

Stanley nodded, and rubbed his chin. "Yeah, so pack clothes for three days of driving, at least two days of annoyance, and three more days of driving."  

Bill twisted his fingers into his curly, long hair. He stared at it and frowned. "...Do you think I should change my hair for this? I'm meeting your parents. I don't want to look... I don't know. I don't want to look unkept or too weird." 

"Eh, who cares." Stanley shrugged, and then picked up his tablet. He was staring a hole through the device, refusing to look up from it. "It doesn't matter anyway, my dad's not going to like Stanford dating you." 

Bill drummed his fingers on the uneven table surface. "What do you mean by that? I mean, I could start with a lot of different things as to why me dating Fordsy might bring up an issue, but let's go with the obvious one. Is it because I'm a guy?" 

"Nah. It's that you're poor. It's allllll about money with him. And let's face it. We don't have the cash for airfare, you're not going to impress him with a new haircut. It's not worth it, he's not easily impressed. So you might want to keep it in your pants for the few days that we're there. I mean, it's going to be awful most of the time, but I do have a little bit of money socked aside. Enough for a motel room, because we're not staying at my parents' house. Screw that. We'll need to get away anyway. If we're going to have a 'vacation' that's mostly mental torment for me, I want some place to run off to." 

"That's fair, and also... good thinking on the motel room. I'll see what I have to give you for gas, I'll let you know at lunch. I gotta go get ready for the day, I'll see you then." Bill stood up from the table, ruffling Stanley's messy brown hair before he left, getting a non-committal grunt in return. He glanced at his phone while he walked, heading out of the Mystery Shack. There were a few messages from Stanford. Once he was in his own shop, he locked the door behind him, and flopped down in the chair he usually told fortunes in to read them. 

_Hey Bill, I don't think I'm going to be able to get a decent vehicle to go to the drive in, and it doesn't work as great if we go via bicycle_ _. Do you mind if we go to the beach?_  

_I've taken a picture of it. It's nice!_  

_I'll leave you alone so you can sleep. Let me know_ _when you can_ _!_  

The image came up under the few sent messages. The beach was sprawled out in the picture, the waves stopped in mid movement. The night sky had dots of stars, blanketing every inch of the inky darkness. Bill's breathing slowed as he looked at the picture, and the walls of his fortune telling shop fell away to the past. 

_"What makes you think you can go to the beach?"_  

_Bill looked up at his step mother. She was a woman of slim stature, with long, thin fingers and sharp nails. Her face was stern, as it always was, while she looked down her nose at him._ _Her two biological children were hiding behind her. The door to the beach was beyond them, only a few steps away. He squirmed in his spot. "Well, you're going. So I go too. I'm only eight, you can't leave me alone-"_  

_"Only good boys get to go to the beach." Her words hung over Bill like a cloud as they came out like a lead weight from her cruel mouth_ _. "We're going, you're staying here. I'm locking you in. There's a tv dinner in the freezer. You know how to use a microwave."_  

_The warm summer breeze drifted on through the cabin, ruffling his hair. He grabbed the bottom of the beat up tee shirt he wore, twisting it in his hands._ _"But- but I don't want to be alone. Please don't leave me alone. I'll sit on the beach, I won't do or say anything but please, please, please don't leave me all by myself, I hate being alone-_ _"_  

_She knelt down in front of him, her sun dress scraping the wooden floors. She reached out and took his chin into her hand, her nails scraping against his skin. He flinched, and tried to pull away._ _"Oh Bill, we both know that won't happen._ _Maybe you shouldn't have set fire to the curtains. I'm not going to ruin my actual children's day at the beach because social services hasn't picked you up yet._ _" Her words were sweet, and stuck to his skin. "Only good children get to go to the beach."_  

_His heart pounded against his chest, his lungs fighting for any type of air. "I'm not bad! I'm not a bad kid! Don't leave me!_ _"_  

"I'm not bad, I'm not bad!" His voice carried through his empty shop. He fought to catch his breath. Bill's hands were engulfed flickering blue flames. The remains of his fortune telling table were at his feet, ash scattered across the ground. "I'm not. I'm... tableless." The fire leaping from his hands slowed down to nothing. He rested them on his knees, his head hitting the back of his chair with an audible thud. "Damn it, I liked that table too." 

The door to the shop opened some time later, as Bill marched out. He was carrying a trash bag stuffed with ashes to the garbage can. He tossed the bag in with a sigh. There was ash still on his floor. The act of sweeping irritated his hands to no end. He scrowled down at the bandages. He was going to have to swap them out again soon. 

"Cleaning today?" 

Bill glanced to the side, catching sight of Preston standing in front of him. He had a large bouquet of flowers and had a sheepish expression on his face. Far from the perfect business man from the other day, he wore khakis and a polo shirt. Beside him stood the same servant from the previous day. They both blocked his way back into his shop.  Bill cracked his knuckles, standing up straighter and squared off his shoulders. "Oh. You again. I figured my lack of education would have repelled you. Seems like I'll have to do that myself. I don't think I need to tell you to leave, but since you're dumb enough to come on your own, I guess I'll have to physically remove you from the front of my property-" 

"Wait—wait. What I said yesterday was completely out of line. I'm sorry I made light of your degree, and your intelligence. That was wrong of me. Clearly, you're very smart. You have your own business, and are doing fine despite the neighborhood. Will you accept these in apology?" 

Bill glanced down at the flowers, frowned, and walked back into his shop. Preston followed behind him, almost right at his heels. "Do you really think flowers would solve anything? You not only insulted me, but you also threatened me, and forced an art piece  _full_  of lies into my shop! ….Beyond that, I won't be home to enjoy them. If you truly were sorry,  you could take your painting off my wa-" 

"Nonsense! I wouldn't deprive your shop of some needed art. I'll help you out. Free of charge, especially if you can't enjoy my flowers." 

Bill paused, and looked over at Preston and his servant. He rubbed his chin, and made an interested noise. "Free of charge you say?" 

"Of course!" 

He turned around, arms folded across his chest. "Alright. This  _could_ be worth my while. I'm adding a stipulation, though. You must do the work, not your servant." He stared at Preston, stone faced, as he waited for an answer. The servant beside him was chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to keep from laughing. 

Preston's face slowly drained of all color. "You m-must be joking. I don't work. Not doing menial tasks. That's beneath me!" 

Bill's hand rose up, his finger pointing toward his limousine. "Get out of my way then." 

"Okay- okay. I will do the menial tasks." He handed the flowers to his servant. "Go back to the car, and back to the house. I will call when I want to be picked up." Once he was gone, Preston turned his attention back to Bill. "Now. What "chore" will you have me do?" He chuckled and made air quotations, but stopped when the handle of a broom was thrust into his open hand. 

"I hurt my hands yesterday, so sweeping is out. You can sweep up the rest of the ashes from the old table. You can sweep them right outside. I ah... I've got to find a replacement table for the readings today." 

"Sweep? Ah yes. 'Sweeping'. I can do that." Preston struggled with the broom, not certain of where to put his hands on the handle, or how to move it on the floor. Bill watched him fight with it, trying not to laugh as he danced around in strange, jerking motions. The bristles never once touched the floor. Bill covered his mouth with his hand to block out his grin. By time he had rearranged enough of the odd artefacts to have a surface to do makeshift readings on, Preston was sweating and smiling by the door. "I've done it! I've swept the ashes out the door, and have done a damn good job of it. It's a bit tricky, this sweeping."  

Bill glanced down at the floor. All of the ashes were indeed gone. "Well. You have done a good job. I see you did not let the broom get the best of you. It was touch and go for a while though." 

"No mere broom can defeat a Northwest. As a matter of fact, I even enjoyed it! It's like rowing, you see. Which I do, by the way. Captain of the team and all of that. I daresay no one sweeps better than I do. So. Ah. Do you accept my apology for my rudeness from before...?" 

"Apology accepted, pal." Bill shrugged a shoulder. "You're free to go."  

"Yes, good. I ah... do you have anything else you need done? Sweeping was oddly freeing. Er... free of charge, of course." 

Bill's eye widened. He blinked a few times, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, er... alright... Look, I appreciate the help- but I'm trying to finish up work before I go on a near two week trip. Why don't you come back at the end of the month. I'll need a hand getting ready for Summerween. I'm always very busy, and an extra set of hands might be good to help keep things organized. Or bad. Eh, it'll be chaotic. Chaos is good." 

"Well then, it's a date!" 

"No, no it's not." 

"Okay! I'll see you then!" 

Bill shook his head once Preston had gone, and his door was shut. He looked to the skulls lining his teeth filled window. "Maybe he'll forget about it." 

- 

"Maybe he'll forget about it?! Have you gone completely insane? I guarantee you that he's written 'stalk Bill's shop till he gets back' in every calendar, calendar app, and every sticky note in that big, stupid mansion he lives in." Stanley gripped the wheel, scowling at the upcoming Oregon state boarder. They had driven most of the previous night and into the morning to get a good start on the trip. The Stanley Mobile clattered and shook over the beat up road, knocking them both around. "What were you thinking?!" 

"I don't know! He offered to sweep my floor. My table had an accident, and with my hands all torn up I couldn't do it. So I thought it'd be funny-" 

" _Was_ it funny?" 

"Oh  _Stanley_ , he had no idea how to work a broom. It was like watching two small kids try to figure out how to dance. Oh. Oh, it was great. Ugh, I should have recorded it for you." 

Stanley grunted, his eyes never leaving the road. "Funny, but still. I repeat. What were you thinking?! How are we supposed to be rid of this guy if you're  _nice_  to him. And since when are you so forgiving anyway?!" 

"Eh... I don't know, Stanley. I can't shake the feeling that I was awful to him before at some point." He twisted the seatbelt in his hands, over and over again until was rolled up in a tube. "I know it's crazy, I didn't even know who the hell he was until recently. There's no way I could have personally wronged him. As much as I want to brush him off, I can't. Besides, maybe he'll take his hideous 'representation' of what happened in the woods off my wall on his own accord, and we won't have to worry about him threatening to buy up our street and leave us homeless. I mean, maybe he'll prevent others from doing it to us too. That is a serious threat, if gentrification ever comes to Gravity Falls." 

Stanley let out a long sigh. "I guess... you're right. It's good to have an ally with money. But I don't like it! Mark that down in your head somewhere." 

"Done and done." Bill grinned and laid back in the car seat. The grin faded as he watched the treeless landscape go by as they approached the Idaho border. He grabbed the seat belt  in his hands, squeezing it hard. "I feel the same way about your brother. More and more, I feel like I  _really_ did something bad to him. I don't... I don't know  _why_ , I never met him until a few weeks ago! Each time I talk to him, I grow more and more certain that I hurt him in some irreparable way. What if it's some premonition that I am going to wind up being terrible to him?" 

"I-I don't know, Bill. You got those weird ass powers, maybe you're reincarnated from some powerful wizard in a past life who did a bunch of bad shit to other people. Uh, the hell if I know though, I just assumed you got bit by a radioactive spider, or I don't know- were brought in by demons or something. You never actually told me how you got magic powers." 

"Demons..." Bill's words tapered off. "I don't actually know, Stanley. Demons might be right. It's as right as any other thought on my parentage- as I have no idea, there. They found me outside of a hospital when I was a baby, with my name written on a sheet of paper. ...That's it. Some origin story, huh? I gotta work on that." 

The car struck another pothole, jostling the two riders inside. Once the coffee finished sloshing around in the cup holders, Stanley cleared his throat. "Nah... it's good. I mean, you can't get any worse than 'loser twin brother wrecks brother's nerdy machine and is thrown out of the house' origin story." 

"We're both losers, Stanley." Bill cracked a smile. 

"Yeah... Yeah. Sounds 'bout right." Stanley returned the smile. "Eh, I'm glad you're doing this with me. I don't think I could do this with anyone else. Or alone. Hell no. I mean, how am I gonna talk to my family? What do I even say? It's so awkward around Stanford, I can't even imagine what I'm going to say to Shermie. Hi, I'm your older brother no one talks about? Jesus." Stanley raked a hand through his thick hair.  

Bill watched him work over his bottom lip, his grip on the wheel tightening. He rubbed his chin and smirked. "I got it. You know that song, Without Me?" 

"Yeah, it's by that Eminem guy. I remember, sure." 

"Well now. I'll save you the pleasure of listening to me rap some other time. But here's what you should say. 'Guess who's back, back again. Stanley's back- tell a friend.' And that's it! Just like that, just like the song. You don't need to say anything else! Besides, I'll be there with you. Your dad's going to be hating on my poor ass the whole time, you won't  _need_  to say anything else! Problem solved." He grinned. "Look at that, your old pal Bill taking a bullet for ya." 

"Huh." Stanley's face slowly slumped from their position pinned up by his ears. "You're right. ...Thanks, Bill." 

He put his hand on Stanley's shoulder, nodding slowly. "You're welcome. Now! How long do you think it will take us to get through Idaho?" 

"I'll look!" He picked up Stanley's phone, and made a sound of concentration. "We're going to be in Idaho for over five hundred miles." 

"Oh! That's a lot. I've never been on a road trip before. Most of the times I was in a car, I was being escorted some place. I never even got my driver's license. I had my permit before I had to run away. My foster dad gave me his truck and his old chest so I could kinda survive. ...Do you want me to drive some of the way?" 

Stanley broke his concentration once to stare at Bill. "Do you really think I'm going to give you the wheel after you told me that?" 

"Well, yeah. I looked on the map app, it's not like it's hard. It's pretty straight the entire way. I can drive. You pull back on that stick thing, and put your foot on the go pedal. And the one literally right next to it is the stop pedal. Easy!" 

"Uhhh... we'll talk about that later." 

- 

_Hiya_ _Fordsy_ _! We made some good time._ _Stanley drove through a bunch of states. We're currently in a motel room_ _in_ _Iowa!_  

He paused in his text to watch Stanely pound his fist on the old cooling unit. Both of them had stripped down to boxers and  undershirts to try and keep cool. The unit was promised to work by the owner, and was currently strapped to the wall with several worn strips of duct tape. Bill's eye wandered up the dingy curtains and paneled walls. Outside the room, the heavy red neon glow of the motel shone through the dirty blinds of their room.  "Come on you rotten piece of junk!" Another slam, a few bangs, and a shuttering sound came from the unit. 

_It's a nice room. The beds have magic fingers still attached to them, I'm treating Stanley to it_ _when he finishes fixing the air conditioning._ _It's a surprise for a job well done! Hopefully_ _, or we're sleeping naked_ _. I'm torn on the issue. Naked means less warm, but_ _I also don't want my body to touch the sheets. It's going to be an interesting night! I miss you. I'll see you soon._  

He sent the message, peeling himself from the bedspread. "How's the cold air coming?" 

"It's coming in puffs." Stanley waved his hand over the vent a few times. "It'll be cold in here by winter." 

"So... naked then?" Bill asked while Stanley flopped face down on the other bed in the room. 

"Do what you want, but do whatever it is with the lights off." As soon as the words left his mouth, Bill was peeling off his shirt. He threw it off to the side, facing away from Stanley. "Bill, what's that on your-" 

"Great! Oh, surprise magic fingers!" He swung his arm over, and shoved a quarter into the rusty box. Stanley's bed began to shake wildly. "You deserve it. No thanks needed."  

"Y-y-y-y-y-o-o-o-o-o-o-u-u-u-u-u-u-u t-t-t-t-h-h-I-I-I-I-I-I-n-n-n-n-k-I-'d-t-t-t-t-t-t-h-h-h-h-a-a-a-a-a-a-n-n-n-n-k y-y-y-y-y-o-o-o-o-u-u-u-u-u-f-f-f-f-f-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-or-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-h-h-h-h-h-I-I-I-I-s?! B-I-I-I-I-I-L-L-L-L!" Stanley's voice rose up over the sound of the shaking bed. He grasped the edge as the bed continued to vibrate wildly.  

"You're welcome!" Bill reached over and turned off the light. 

- 

_"No, no. It was a mistake. It was an honest to goodness mistake. I'll pay Rico back- I swear! I swear!" He was on his knees, swaddled in shadow. A silver glint appeared in the darkness. It grew larger, increasing_ _in size_ _and growing in appearance until it resembled Bill's revolver. "Bill... Bill, is that you? Bill, please. It's me, it's Stanley."_  

_A smile appeared next, twisting up until laughter filled the space. Bill's laugh. "Pay up, pay up, pay up Stanley Pines! Don't you know me? I'm Rico's number one!_ _"_  

_"N-" A bang cut through the air and suddenly he was in the trunk of a car. His breath caught in his_ _his_ _throat as he groped his chest for the bullet wound. Nothing. He rolled on his back, staring up at the roof of a car_ _trunk. "No, no. Not again. Not again, this isn't real, this isn't-_ _"_  

_"Hey, what's your name?"_  

_"Bill-"_  

_"Oh, funny_ _coin_ _cidence! That's my name too!" The car shook and rattled, shifting and molding until he was staring at single eye embedded in a multiple armed, red pyramid. He_ _squeezed him tight in his_ _large, yellow hand._ _"Who are we_ _kiddin_ _'? We BOTH know your name is Stanley Pines! Don't you remember me?_ _It's_ _your old pal Bill!_ _"_  

Stanley awoke gasping for breath and fight his seatbelt in the passenger seat of the Stanley mobile. The seat was all the way back, his head surrounded by their bags. "Wh...what? Where?!" He sat up straight, fighting with the seatbelt. He turned his head sharply to the side, his eyes wide as he looked at Bill driving easily. "Why?! You're not supposed to drive!" 

"Aw, says who? I'm doing a great job. We're nearly out of Iowa! Boy, those magic fingers really did the trick. You sure were out like a light! Best quarter I ever spent. You didn't even flinch when I carried you out and put you in the car! And don't worry, I've been sticking to the maps too. Not even a single move out of place. Or detours. Whatever you call im'."  

Stanley pulled on the handle to sit up, looking around at the endless flat landscape littered with fields of corn. "I... oh. That's... that's good, but I would have liked to have showered and cleaned up." Stanley reached down and grabbed his phone. "I'm going to try and find a truck stop. They have the best showers. They're not free, but that's alright. They're cheap enough. There's one before we get to Davenport. I... I had the weirdest nightmare, I feel like a shower might calm me down." 

"I can do that! I didn't shower at the motel. There were some um, things in the shower. I didn't want to step in there with bare feet, and I didn't bring sandals." He shuddered. "I'm sorry about your nightmare. What was it about?" 

"Uhm, Rico. Paying my money back to Rico. Yeah." Stanley rubbed at his eyes, and looked out at the landscape. "….Has it even changed since you started driving?" 

"Nope!" Bill beamed. "It's maddening, but I like it. And don't waste your dreams on him, it's over."  

"You would. And uh, yeah. Yeah, you're right. I-it was a stupid dream." Stanley threw his arm over face. 

Bill's hands squeezed the wheel, chewing "Thank you for trusting me with your car, and to drive. That means a lot to me. Not a lot of people trust me, which I get. I'm a shady fortune teller with a big, wide grin and very deep pockets. But you're like me. You get me. ...Though, I didn't ask you for permission to drive. I basically stole your car." 

"Yeah, I know. Uh, Bill. Since we're being pretty real here, what's up with your back? Last night at the motel, when you took your shirt off you had a mark on your back. What was that?" 

Bill stiffened up, his hands clenching the wheel despite the easy smile on his face. "Oh, it's a birth mark. It's in the shape of a triangle." 

The color drained right out of his face. "A... a triangle,  you say? Right in the middle of your back like that?" 

"You betcha, pal. It's why I don't often take my shirt off. Heh. I forgot all about it yesterday when we were in the room. You're the one person on this planet that I don't have to keep my guard up around." 

Stanley shifted in his seat, looking to Bill while the other kept his focus on the road. "Yeah?" 

"Yeah. I'm an open book when it comes to you. Go ahead! Ask me anything, Stanley. I'm ready." 

Stanley blinked, staring right at Bill.  _Bill's not a monster. Bill's my friend. It was just a stupid dream. It didn't mean a damn thing._ "…Alright. Boxers or briefs?" 

Bill blinked. "Um. Seriously? You could have asked me literally anything about me, about my past, and that's what you ask?" 

"Answer the question, Bill." 

Bill's laughter filled the car. He laughed, and laughed hard, until he cried. Somewhere between a broken laugh and a sob, he began to speak. "Oh,  _Stanley_. I love you. Boxer briefs." He palmed the tear streaks on his face. "Boxer briefs, all the way." 

- 

_Fordsy_ _, baby! Haven't heard from you while we're road tripping. Is everything okay? I miss hearing from you. We're almost to New Jersey. I'll let you know when we're in Glass Shard Beach. By the_ _by_ _, d_ _id you ever shower in a truck stop before? It's pretty nice. They give you your own fresh towel and a bath mat! I bought you a shot glass as a_ _souvenir_ _. See you soon!_  

Stanford glanced at the message, just like he had done several different times throughout the last several hours. Bill sent it to him early in the morning, and it was near evening. He chewed on his lip, brushing the flour from his shirt. Most of the day was spent cooking for the party. Apparently, all of his family and their many relatives were on their way for this weekend. Stanley was the one with the actual cooking skills, Stanford knew enough how to survive only. "He's probably waiting for me to respond, I really have to respond." 

_Hi, Bill!_  

"No." He frowned. 

_Bill, it's good to hear from you!_  

"Too informal." 

_Bill, I'm sorry._  

"There's a start."  

  _Bill, I'm sorry. I'm covered in flour and I've been staring at your messages forever with no idea on how to even reply to you. I'm glad you're having fun, and I wish I could be there. I can't wait to_ _see_ _you again. I'm sorry this message isn't as entertaining as yours are, please keep sending them. I think I get word shy when it comes to communicating with you over text message. I am looking forward to our date as well. Have a safe rest of your trip._  

Stanford pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes while reading his message. He hit send, and flopped back in his bed. Flour rose up around him, encasing him in a cloud. Once it had subsided, he picked up his phone again to send one final message. 

_Please eat before you come to the party :)_  

He dropped the phone on his bed. The water stains on his old bedroom ceiling greeted him. Soon, he was going to be in Gravity Falls. Jersey was a footnote, college a brief reminder. Life was going to really begin a mere few days away. He reached over to grab the sketch he had started from the nightstand between him and Stanley's old, vacant bed. His fingers grazed over his alarm clock, a pen or two, and then his spiral bound notebook. Bill's sharp face greeted him, along with his six arms he drew him with. He put it down beside his phone. "Wish me luck, Bill." 

The paper did not answer him back, but the notification light from his phone flashing at him was fine enough. He straightened his collar, threw his shoes on, and started down the worn stairs to  _Pines' Pawns._ Filbrick Pines was behind the counter, running over what looked like inventory sheets. "Hey Pa. Did Ma tell you Stanley was coming?" 

"Yeah, the knucklehead better have made something of himself." 

Filbrick's hard voice made him swallow hard. He tightened his fingers into fists, rolling his shoulders. "He's got his own business. He's done well for himself. ...Did Ma tell you about Bill?" 

Filbrick stopped looking over the sheets, eyeing Stanford. "You mean your boyfriend?" 

"Yes. My... my boyfriend Bill is coming. I don't want you to give him any trouble. I'm ready to fight about it if you want to. The boxing ring is free. I checked today."  

"...Nah. Your Ma will kill me if I mess up your face right before your party." 

"Who said I would lose for that to happen?" Stanford's words flew out of his mouth. He did not care to stop them, and stood tall. 

The pen rolled out of Filbrick's hand, bouncing on the glass counter top. "What did you just say to me?" He stood up slowly, his eyes on Stanford. 

"You heard me." 

Filbrick's hands slammed on the glass counter. "Now  _that's_ more like it. I'll let you know if I'll accept this Bill after the party instead of upon first meeting him. Your Ma says he's a fortune teller. Means he's broke. He better have  _something_  going for him." 

"He does." Stanford gave a curt nod.  _He can have six or more arms and eats spiders the size of buses._  

"I'll be the judge of that. We'll see when he gets here, if he's worth anything. Mind the store. Your Ma has me running on errands." 

Stanford's shoulders relaxed. "Yes, of course." He slid back behind the counter, watching his father leave the store. He let out a shaky sigh, letting his forehead hit the glass counter with a soft  _thunk_. He gazed down at the gold watches in the cases. "I finally did it, ugly watches. I stood up to my dad. ...I'm also talking to watches. It's been a day." He slowly picked his head up, catching sight of his reflection in one of the old mirrors lining the wall. He ran his fingers through his hair, fixing it back into its fluffy shape. He adjusted his glasses, and stood up straighter. He laced his fingers togther, trying to remain stone faced for any customers who may wander in. His smile found its way back to his face no matter how hard he tried. 

- 

Streaks of purple shot across the sky, followed by dark blue and the stars right after it. The night air came on strong, bringing cooler breezes off of the ocean with the dimming lights. The Stanley Mobile faced the ocean from its perch up on a hill. Stanley leaned against the driver's door, while Bill sat on the ground next to him. He was staring at the ocean, almost unblinking for some time. 

"It doesn't look like it's moving from here. I know it is. I know the water's doing what it does. It's beautiful. I've never seen an ocean before." 

"It is." Stanley shrugged. "It's great up close, I'm sure Stanford will want to take you. But there it is, Glass Shard Beach." 

"Stanley?" Bill's voice was quiet and small. He did not turn around to look at Stanley. Instead, he looped his arms around his knees, which were folded up to his chest. 

"Y-yeah, Bill?" 

"Am I good? As in a good person?" 

"Is that a trick question? Of course you are. You might do questionable things, but uh- you could have hurt or killed me so many times, but you didn't. You could have crushed Ford in a few words, but you didn't. You're... you're a good person, Bill." 

Bill picked himself up, dusted himself off, and reached over to squeeze Stanley's shoulder. "Thank you, Stanley. I'm sorry for being cryptic. It's just past shit." 

"Read you loud and clear, buddy. You ready to get knee deep in my past shit?" 

"Only after several rounds of magic fingers!" Bill gave him a wide grin. He rolled over the hood of the car, climbing in the passenger's seat. 

"You better hope there isn't magic fingers in our hotel room, Bill, or so help me-" Stanley got into the driver's side door, scowling at the handfuls of quarters Bill had in his hands. "No. Noooo. Bill. Come on. No magic fingers." 

"I can't help it, I feel a deep, empathetic connection with the machine. We  _both_  have magic fingers!" He howled in laugher as Stanley started up the car. It rumbled down the road toward their motel.  

Stanley's eyes drifted from house to house. Not much had changed in the many years since he was thrown out. He rubbed the front of his tee shirt. "I can't wait to unload you onto Ford." 

"Aw, you don't mean that. I know you too well. You'd miss your old pal Bill!" He dumped the quarters into the cup holder, and rubbed his hands on his jeans. "I know you too well, Stanley!" 

"I suppose you do. Hey... Bill? I really am glad you're here. Whatever happens tomorrow, I know I can count on you. I couldn't really do that before, with anyone. So... thanks. I mean that. Thanks a lot." 

Bill's expression softened. "Hey... no problem, Stanley. You're welcome. We'll face tomorrow together. ...With or without magic fingers." 

-End of Part 1  


	2. Past, Present, and Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Stanley are in New Jersey. The past is there to bite them both as Stanley prepares himself to see his family, and Bill dances with the ghosts of his past. As his brother and Bill are dealing with the past, Stanford gets a glimpse of something troubling on the horizon that isn't his graduation party, a potential fist fight, or figuring out what to do on his dates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, we've come to an end. This story was incredibly difficult to write, and with it being finished, this wraps up Stanley's arc. When I can get back to this fic (probably in September), we will start up in Gravity Falls as Stanford starts his arc.
> 
> Please heed the warnings in the tags. There's a lot going on here, and one of those things happens to be Bill dealing with his past. Or at least part of it. There aren't too many lighthearted moments in this story, and that's normally not how I like to go. In order to advance the story and the characters, this one had to get a little darker. In the next fic, we will be back to adventure :D

_"Please, please. I am so hungry. You have so much food, I can pay you back for what I took." Bill was down on his_ _knees, not fighting the hands_ _on his shoulders which were_ _keeping him from standing back up. "I don't have any money, but I can do odd jobs-"_  

_The man who owned the large mansion stood up from his large, leather chair. His upper body was massive_ _even with the loose cut of his suit_ _, his shoulder_ _wid_ _th_ _alone dwarfed an under fed, gangly Bill._ _His hair was cropped closely to his head, and was dark as Bill's._ _He ground out his cigar in a tray_ _with his thick fingers_ _. "Pick him up, let me look at the food thief."_  

_He was lifted right off the ground as if he weighed nothing, and held upright. His legs trembled, and he swallowed hard. The man behind the desk stepped around, his eyes roamed up and down Bill before grabbing the front of his dirty tee shirt. He tore it right from his body, leaving his chest_ _exposed. "Look at this stick!_ _I can count all of his ribs with just a glance!_ _Look at him, thinking he can be useful like this! Hah! Maybe we should just shoot him, put this skinny dog out of his misery._ _Yes, a mercy killing- a good deed._ _I suppose since it was my food,_ _and_ _my party that you_ _disrupted when you tried to steal, I should be the one to_ _do it_ _." A silver revolver was pressed against his forehead_ _before he knew it_ _. It clicked and he yelped. Laughter filled the room._ _No bang._ _No bullet. The gun was pointed away from him, and Bill sucked in a deep_ _, shuddered_ _breath._ _"How old are you?"_  

_Tears spilled down his cheek. He sucked in a few breaths, several strangled sounds escaping from him before he mustered out words_ _._ _"Twenty-one_ _." The handle of the revolver struck him across the jaw. The taste of metal soon followed, as blood trailed out of his mouth. "S-s-s-s-seventeen."_  

_"That's better." He_ _reached over and pulled an apple from the bowl of fruit on his desk. He bit into it, letting the juice run down his chin. "Good apple." He tossed it up in the air, catching it with a satisfying_ _thunk_ _. He took another_ _large bite_ _out_ _of it. He threw the rest of the fruit away, smiling at the strained sound coming from Bill_ _as he watched a mostly whole apple being tossed aside._ _"Where is your family, food thief?"_  

_"I ran away."_  

_"How long?"_  

_"A y-year."_  

_"Ah, impressive. You survived this long."_  

_Bill nodded, and the look on the other man's face soured. The gun was pointed in his direction once more, and fired right at his feet. He let out another yelp_ _and hopped into the air on instinct alone_ _._  

_"You answer me with words_ _like a man_ _, food thief. Do not disrespect me with body language."_  

_"Y-y-yes. I survived a year." Bill raked his teeth over his bottom lip. "Are you g-going to kill me?"_  

_The man rubbed his square chin. He gave Bill another once over before raising up the revolver once more. "Yes!" The bang echoed in the room, the bullet racing right for him. Blue flames whipped right up around Bill, surrounding him in a protective_ _dome_ _of fire_ _. The flames burned up the bullet in a pie of ash before it_ _ever_ _reached him. The men holding him jumped back, checking themselves for burns or singe marks. When there were none, one of them spoke up._ _The fire died down to flames flickering wildly around Bill's trembling fingers_  

_"Boss?"_  

_"Stay back!" Bill lifted his hands_ _which were still_ _wreathed in flames. "Stay back, I don't want to hurt you! I'm just going to leave now, okay? Okay._ _"_  

_"No... No_ _." His voice went soft, and the gun was placed on the desk. "Now, calm down. No need for the_ _fire_ _works_ _, eh?_ _I thought you were hungry! Don't you want to stay around? Have some food? Maybe a good_ _shower? When was the last time you had a_ _decent_ _set of clothes?"_  

_The fire around Bill's hands shrank down. "A-a l_ _ong_ _time ago. But I can't pay you!" The man's arm wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him in to his side._  

_"Nah, don't worry about things like money. Not between family. You've got these flames." He grabbed Bill's wrist and forced it up to look at the blue fire. "What an interesting ability this is. In exchange for this, I will give you food. Clothes. A roof over your head. These flames make us family, you see."_  

_"Y-you tried to shoot me, and kill me._ _Real f_ _-family doesn't try to kill each other."_  

_"It was a joke, a funny joke._ _I do jokes all the time. Keeps everyone on their toes, you know?_ _I had to test your mettle. Congratulations! You passed. You are part of the family now._ _Now. Tell me. Honestly, of course._ _Do you like the gun?" He gestured to the gun on the table._  

_"Well, you did try to kill me with it." Bill eyed the revolver, as if it would come to life and strike him dow_ _n in a moment's notice._  

_"_ _Hah-_ _right to the point with this one! It's_ _a tradition, a_ _scarred_ _tradition. I was shot with the sister to that very same gun by the man who used to run t_ _his_ _operation, when I was not much older than you. See? It is in here." He opened up his suit coat to show Bill the hidden holster. "I_ _keep it next to me at all costs._ _I_ _shot you because you remind me of me!_ _…Except I did not have blue flames to protect me. The bullet is still in my shoulder, you see._ _You though?_ _You're special_ _. I can tell these things better than anyone! So I would know_ _who I want in my family over any one else—even you!_ _One day, you could become like me- and that gun and it's twin could become yours. Wouldn't you like that?"_  

_Hunger cut through him like a knife. Food, clothes, showering, a roof over his head. Those luxuries were distant memories from his last foster parent._ _Bill started to nod, but stopped quickly. "Yes, sir. I would like that."_  

_"Good, good. Now, none of that sir business. We're family, remember? Family doesn't call each other by formal names. I am Rico. What's your name?"_  

_"It's Bill. Bill Cipher."_  

_"Good name._ _Let's get you some food and clothes._ _" He squeezed Bill's shoulder_ _and started to walk with him_ _. "Welcome to the family, Bill."_  

Stanley's pants landed right on Bill's head. "Earth to Bill! Shower's yours." Seconds passed, and Bill did not move. He frowned at the sight. He was sitting rigidly upright in the second bed in the motel room. His stare seemed to go right through the wall he was facing. "Alright, next time you can have the shower first, smart ass. Just... Say something." He poked Bill in the arm. "Bill, Bill—come on. Come on, pal. It's me, it's Stanley!" He shook him this time, with no response. "Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. I know what this is. Okay. Think, Stanley. Think." He carefully turned Bill's face toward him. Bill's stare went right through him, like he did with the wall moments ago. 

"Bill, it's Stanley. Come on. It's me, it's your friend. It's okay." He gripped Bill's shoulders. "You're safe, you're with me. I'm going to be right here with you until you come out of it." He reached down and took his hand. "See? I got your hand, so you know I’m here. I'll wait for however long it takes." He settled in beside him, holding Bill's bandaged hand in his. "And talk, because two guys silently holding hands in a cheap motel room is weird when the one guy is dating the other guy's brother. ...Talking makes it less weird somehow. So. I was going to tell you after you got out of your shower, but you're currently on pause. I've taken all the little soaps from the bathroom, but I don't know if that's a good idea or not. The packaging is very yellow. Like, who last stayed in this hotel room? No one in the last decade, I bet. Kinda makes me not want to unfold the covers. Who knows what's gonna be beneath im', am I right? I know you would want to bet with me on what we'd find if you were feeling better." He squeezed Bill's hand. "...This one must be pretty bad. Normally you're out of it by now. I wish you'd tell me what's wrong. Maybe it wouldn't be s'bad if you talked about it the next time this happens. At least we could go through it together. ...Though I guess you should tell Sixer these things and not me, since you're dating. I mean that... that trumps friends, right? Like, all the stuff we do... can... can we just not do that anymore? Are we going to be able to hang out? What if you only want to do things with Stanford and not me? Is it over?" He stopped talking, as the drumming sound in his head grew worse. He swallowed the knot in his throat. "I don't want to lose you, Bill. I  _can't_. I can't lose you  _too_." 

Bill's fingers slowly tightened around his own. Stanley squeezed his hand harder as a breath hitched in his throat. 

Stanley rubbed the meaty part of his free palm up against his cheek, trying to get rid of his tears. "This is stupid, I'm trying to help you and I get upset. I'm supposed to be happy for Stanford, and I am- because you're great. You're better than great, you're the best. I know Ford appreciates it. I'm just... scared I might lose you along the way." There was a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turned slowly to look, and blinked rapidly. Bill's chin was resting on him. He looked up at Stanley with a round, yellow eye and a large grin.  

"Naaaah, you love me. But not in the productive way that would get me laid." Bill's grin spread across his face. "But seriously, Stanley. We're two halves of the same idiot, I can't even go two hours out of the day without seeing you. I basically live at  _your_  house and come up with reasons to stay over every night because I like hanging around you in addition to crippling loneliness! I'm not going anywhere! Besides, you're my ride home." He ruffled his hair. "...Thank you for staying with me through that. It... It was a pretty bad memory. O-one of the worst." 

"What was it about?" Stanley let go of his hand, watching as Bill immediately raked a hand through his black hair. 

He twisted part of the duvet in his hand. Stanley watched him chew on his cheek, as his eye sank shut.  "R-Rico." 

"Oh." Stanley put his arm around Bill's shoulder. "I'm... I'm sorry. He was a grade-A pyscho. Um... I know you don't like talking about these things. Neither do I for that matter, but maybe we could try?" 

He went still. Bill's face scrunched up, his frown deepening. "Yeah... yeah. But not here. Not... not now. We got more important thing than a huge pile of my past shit! Namely, your past shit!" 

"Oh. Oh yeah. Forgot all about that. Eh. I don't want to talk about  _that_ either. That's a different kind of past shit. ...I'm sorry I threw my pants on you. Don't know if you heard me trying to apologize while you were uh, the way you were. I didn't know-" 

Bill waved a hand dismissively. "It's alright, Stanley. I'm not mad at you. Throwing pants on a person is normally a socially acceptable thing." He nudged him in the side. "I'm going to use that shower now. ...Thanks again for staying with me. I don't know what I'd do without you." He got up, gave him a grin, and made his way to the bathroom. 

Stanley sat on the bed for a bit before tossing his pants in the general area of his suitcase. He flopped on his bed, grabbing up the cellphone laying haphazardly on the duvet. He groaned at the blinking light, and went into his text messages.  

Twenty-three unread messages from Stanford Pines. "Aw come on, Poindexter!" He made a face as he started to read them all.  

_Hi Stanley. I texted Bill about all of these items but I wanted to make sure you knew as well. Dinner will be provided at the party, but I had a hand in making it so grab food_ _else_ _where_ _. I can't promise the quality of what I created with Ma will be of edible_ _consumption_ _._  

"Ugh, he can't just say 'we're bad at cooking, eat some place else to avoid food poisoning'.  It'd save on characters." He ran his thumb down the screen, scrolling past several of the messages to pick out the most important parts. Finally, he was at the last message. 

_The party starts at 3. Dad knows Bill is coming. I know Dad is good at fighting, but I am more worried about him than I am about Bill. Ma and_ _Shermy_ _are looking forward to seeing you. Where are you staying?_  

"Good question." By time they rolled up to the motel, Stanley's body sang of too much time spent in the car. He remembered shoving money at the man behind the desk, taking their keys, and stomping into the shower. He rolled to the side to look at the key card. 

_We're at the Seaside Motel. Room 101._  

He saw the notification informing him of Stanford making a new message and instantly turned off his phone. 

- 

Stanford Pines walked up to room 101. It was a bright and early at seven in the morning. He held a tray of coffee and a bag of breakfast, juggling both when he knocked on the door.  When no one answered, he tried again. "Hmm." After a quick trip to the office, he had his own key card to the room. One swipe, and he was in. "Good morning!" He called out, setting coffee and breakfast down on the dresser. He looked  over at the two lumps in the queen beds, and then at his watch. "Oh come on, it's just past seven, it's time to get up!" He clapped his hands. Groans rose up almost immediately. He went over to Bill's bed, shaking his shoulder. "I've got breakfast, Bill. I found terrible coffee so you'll feel right at..."  

Bill turned around, grabbing his wrist. His grip felt like a red hot vice. He looked up to Stanford with his eye glowing like a lantern. " _When Gravity Falls and Earth become sky, fear the beast with just one eye!_ " 

"B-Bill?" 

"Figure it out, smart guy! You know I love that big brain of yours, _HAHAHAH_!" The light from his eye faded, and shut. His arm fell lifelessly to his side, Bill letting out a snore seconds later. Stanford's breathing grew heavier with each passing moment as he watched to see if Bill was going to shoot up with something else to say. 

"Ugh, shut up!" Stanley lobbed a pillow at Bill from his side. "It's too early for you, Bill." 

"Mmmmphhhh." Bill flailed around in his bed. He slowly sat up, yawning loudly. "Oh.... Hey Six. Come on and cuddle with me, since you're here! It's too early for living." 

Stanford fell backward onto Stanley's bed, all the color slowly draining out of his face. He stared at Bill, open mouthed and trembling. Bill's face flooded with concern, his eye widening. 

"F-Fordsy? W-what's wrong?" He swung his legs over the bed and stood up, offering his hand to help him off of Stanley's bed. Stanford recoiled quickly, as if he had been burnt. Bill withdrew his hand, bringing it up to his chest. "A-are you afraid of me...? You've  _never_ been afraid of me." He pursed his lips. "Did... did I say something in my sleep? I'm sorry- I do that sometimes. Stanley writes them down, we're trying to figure out what they mean. It's usually just a bunch of nonsense, though. ...What did I say to you?"  

Stanford's expression softened. Bill was standing there, both of his arms recoiled back. His brow was deeply furrowed, and the frown grew deeper with each moment Stanford did not speak. "It... it was a lot of nonsense, Bill." He adjusted his glasses. "I'm sorry I reacted the way I did. It was unexpected." He slowly got up to his feet. "I didn't know you did that. I-I want to look at the notes you've been taking on them. Maybe some fresh eyes can help with what it all means?" 

"Yes, you're right. When we get back to Gravity Falls, I'll show you them. ...Are you  _really_  okay, though? You... you were pretty scared of me back there, ha... ha." 

"I'm fine." His words were quick, and he reached out to take Bill's arm in his hand. He squeezed it and gave him a small smile. "...Is it too late to take you up on that cuddling offer? Stanley's not getting up any time soon."  

Bill's expression broke out into a wide smile. He flopped back into the bed, looking up to Stanford expectantly. 

"O-oh, right. Um, I never stayed in a bed with an-" A pair of long, thin legs grabbed him around the waist and yanked him down impatiently. Suddenly horizontal and face to face with Bill, he swallowed thickly. "H-hi."  

Bill gave him a small smile. "Hi. ...By the way... I know you're lying to me, Sixer. I did say something pretty bad, I did scare you, and I am sorry. But... you need to tell me what I said. It's important. No one reacts to nonsense looking like a deer in headlights." He placed a hand on his cheek. "You don't have to do it right now. When we get back to Gravity Falls though, I'm going to need you to tell me what I said." 

His expression softened. "What are you, Bill?" 

Bill's brow furrowed. His lips pursed, and for a moment he did not speak. He moved in closer to Stanford, tucking his head under his chin. "I don't know what I am." 

Stanford looped his trembling arms around Bill. "I don't know what to say to make it better." 

From underneath Stanford's chin, he shrugged. "You don't have to say anything. This is pretty great. Good job, Sixer." 

Stanford buried his face in Bill's messy hair. "Thank you.  You know, I... I don't care what you are, Bill. It doesn't matter to me. I-I want you to know that." He felt Bill's hand grasp his shirt, tightening around the fabric. 

"Do... do you think I'm a good person?" His voice was small, and muffled his position tucked against him. 

"What?" Stanford blinked. "Of  _course_ you are! You saved not only me, but Fiddleford,  _and_ that obnoxious rich guy! And... if I am guessing right, when you were in the trunk with Stanley, you saved him as well. You're... You're the best, Bill."  

Bill slowly looked up at him. There was a tiny smile on his face, and six arms at his sides. He hugged Stanford tightly. "Nah. That honor is yours. Um, I'm sorry I didn't text you back about the beach. We can go after the party, I just needed some... validation, per say. ...Even six armed magic guys need that once in a while." 

"Great! We'll have a wonderful time. I promise!" 

"But I'm really okay? I'm okay to go to the beach, see the ocean and all that after the party? I don't want to break the rules, and get you banned from the beach because you brought me.." 

Stanford pulled back slowly, frowning at Bill. "It's a public beach. Where did you see these rules?" 

"Well... I didn't see them per say. You see, one of my foster mothers told me I couldn't go to the beach because I wasn't a good kid. So you know, I wanted to make sure. I didn't know that was a perquisite to go to the beach, if someone was going to be checking. ... _Damn_ , that sounds  _stupid_ out loud. I mean how would they measure that?!" He pulled back, and crossed a pair of his arms over his chest. "You can't check if some one's a good person, there's no device to tell you. I  _could_ have gone to the beach, she didn't have to leave me alone in the house. She lied to me!" 

"Your  _foster mother_  did that to you?" Stanford frowned hard. "I'm so sorry-" 

"Nah, that was easy peasy to deal with in the grand scheme of things. I mean, it sucked then, but really... I've been through much,  _much_  worse. All that stuff I went through as a kid messed me up pretty good. Guess it gave me some mental issues to add to the fire, haha! Hey- Hey. Don't give me that sad face. Your old pal Bill is just  _fine_. It's all under the bridge, down the river, and way out of Dodge." Bill's hand trailed down his cheek, as he took in Ford's deep set frown. "...Your brother and I have a pretty great saying when it gets bad. Can you guess what it is?"  

Stanford shook his head. He brought his hand up, covering the one Bill had on his cheek. "What is the saying, Bill?" 

"It's just past shit. It's brilliant, you see. When it gets bad, I just gotta remember- it's over. Gone. Done. I survived." He grinned at him until it faded. He ran his fingers over Stanford's face, memorizing every feature. He let his arm fall to his side as he gazed at him with a heavy eye. "...God Six, I'm... I'm so tired. 

"I bet you are. Thank you for telling me, Bill. I get the feeling there's more to it than what you've said.... you don't have to tell me more today if you don't want to. But I want to help you. You can talk to me about this any time you want." He squeezed him tightly. "Do you want to try and sleep? I'm sorry I woke you up." 

Bill stretched out, the arms slowly vanishing as his eyes began to shut. "You're a real smart guy, Sixer. I’m pretty glad you woke me up a little bit early. You can also help me dress the wounds on my hands. I can do one hand real well, but the other is a challenge. Your brother's wound dressings were always um... haphazard." 

"Of course I can do that. We'll clean your hands up in a bit. And... You're welcome. Sleep well, Bill." Stanford felt Bill snoozing against him mere minutes later. He remained still to keep from disturbing him. Stanley's sudden snore nearly jolted him. " _So much for catching any extra sleep._ " 

- 

"Alright, so... up or down? Short or long?" Bill gestured to his hair as he looked at the two men sitting on the beds. Fresh bandages covered his hands, and he was nearly done with his look for the party. Stanley was fighting with his tie, and Stanford was finishing off the last of his breakfast sandwich. " _Gentlemen_." 

"Oh uh, afro. Do the afro. That's my favorite." Stanley tugged the knot up to his neck, and made a gagging sound. He yanked it down and off. "No tie!" 

"No afro. The last time I did that, you kept trying to put your pen in my hair. I don't need any more distractions as it is!" He pointed his finger at the tie, causing the garment to rise into the air. With a snap of his fingers, it became a bowtie. Stanley yanked it out of the air, grumbling as he tied it around his neck. "Now. Up, down, short or long? I want to at least look respectable before your dad punches me in the face." 

"Oh, he probably won't do that. I talked to him. We have an understanding, so he should kind of behave. I mean... there's like a fifty percent chance he won't. And ah... I like your hair how you usually have it. Long and to the side. Though, maybe if you could put it up, it wouldn't be a bad idea. You can keep cooler that way as the bulk of the party will be outside at the park." 

"Up huh? Alright." Bill rose his hands up to his ears, his hair piling up on top of his head. Each curl wiggled about, and became shorter until the longest of them hung to his chin. He styled it to the side. "Magic, so helpful. What do you think?" He looked to Stanford who was staring wide eyed and with his mouth hanging open.  

"W...w...ow. You're  _incredible_."  

"Yeah, and while I hate to agree with Geek Cassanova, but you could be wearing a paper bag over your face and you'd still be hot to the bulk of the population." Stanley shook his head. "Hey Sixer, you'd better get going. Ma'll want you there for every minute of the party. We'll be there fashionably late, probably in the late afternoon." 

"Oh, you're right. I should be there for my party. Er, on time in all." 

"It's tacky for the guest of honor to be late, Fordsy." Bill leaned against the dresser, watching Stanford stumble off the bed. "And you're not tacky. Don't miss me too much." 

"I... I will try. I'll see you guys later." Stanford straightened up his shirt, and walked over to Bill. He kissed his cheek, waved to Stanley, and left. 

Bill's fingers grazed over his cheek. "Heh. Your brother's doing really well. He's good- especially for having no experience. I never would have thought this would have been his first time at the date rodeo." 

"Oh ho. Look at you. You're practically glowing. I haven't seen you like that since that time you dated that asshole demon guy who lived in the woods. Remember him? When he tried to sacrifice you or whatever? Man, that was awkward when it didn't work!" 

"Ugh, you had to remind me. Thanks for being on time for that rescue,  _by the way_. I can always count on Stanley Pines being five minutes late to  _everything._ " Bill turned around to look at his reflection, fidgeting with his suspenders. "I need to remind him again that he should have never messed with Bill Cipher when we get back. Breaking my heart like he did! I'm going to turn him into a pile of ash this time, wait for him to grow back and then  _do it again_. I'm so glad to be done with supernatural romances. No more bad boys or glamorous nymphs. Or manataurs. Oh, or sirens. Definitely no spooky ghost waitresses. I am fully invested in your nerdy human brother." He took a look at his collar, making sure it was sharp. "Alright, I'm ready." He turned around, making his way back over to him. "You're crooked."  He smiled a bit and fixed his bowtie. "But ya look good, Stanley."  

"Thanks." 

He frowned at the flat sound of his voice, and put his hands on his shoulders. "Hey. Hey now. We have way too much time before we  _have_ to be at the party. Come on and show me around a little bit before we have to go. We can go to that fifties diner you told me about! Get some shakes, or something. What do you say?" 

"Eh, I don't know. That's where Carla broke up with me and left me for that long haired asshole. I don't know if I want to go there. What if we run in to her? What am I supposed to say?" 

"How 'bout hello? Just a thought." He shrugged a shoulder. "And who cares if she's there?!" 

"Nah, Bill. I can only handle so much negative human interaction in one day. ...I can show you some other things, though. Come on, let's go have a good time before we're in hell for the rest of the day."  

- 

The Stanley Mobile rolled up to a curb outside of the park. The engine cut, and the loud music went off. The back seat had plenty of souvenirs from their board walk adventure. Bill insisted on buying whatever item from the ocean he found,  including five nautical tee shirts and several stuffed animals Stanley had to win for him out of various claw machines. He glanced out the window, watching people coming and going from a large group toward the middle of the park. 

The party. The more Stanley squinted, the more he picked out people in his family. Aunts, uncles, cousins. Would anyone recognize him? He squirmed in his seat, digging his heels into the carpet. 

Balloons and shouts from people he had not heard from in eight years drifted into the car. The voices would be next, it only made sense. If he spoke, would anyone remember his? Stanley's hands clenched at the worn leather on his steering wheel.  He heard Bill shifting on the leather seat, and felt a hand on his arm. 

"Hey-" 

"I'm fine." His hands tightened around the wheel. He unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. He slammed the door, and began to pace alongside of the car.  He heard Bill getting out of the car, making his way over to him. He felt Bill's hand on his shoulder, and sighed heavily. "I don't know how I feel about being able to hear them. I know that's stupid, because they're going to talk. But I still... I don't know if I can do this." He slid down the car, landing on the pavement with a soft thud. Bill joined him, folding his long legs underneath him. "I... I wonder if they ever talked about me, if they ever worried or wondered where I was? If I just vanished and everyone forgot about me. What happens when they see me now? Are they going to pretend I just... came back, like I went to the damn store for a container of milk? Are they going to pretend like those eight years didn't matter? Because they matter to me! I had to do so many terrible things to survive- hell, I wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for you!" 

Bill's hand covered his.  "Fuck im', Stanley. You know they don't matter. You know we're here to see Stanford, because he did something great. You want to see your ma, and your little brother. You know they aren't going to pretend like eight years didn't happen. Everyone else can screw off." 

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Stanley shoved his palm across his face, brushing the tears right off his face. "Geez, look at me. I'm falling apart here. How am I even going to say anything to these people? And if you say hello, I'm going to punch you in the face." 

Bill rubbed his chin, a wide grin spreading across his face. He nudged Stanley in the side. "Guess who's back- back again. Stanley's back..." 

He chuckled and shook his head. "Tell a friend." He leaned over, knocking heads with Bill. They sat against the car for some time, until Stanley spoke. "Thanks, Bill. I couldn't do this without you." 

"Any time, pal." 

Stanley's eyes drifted down to their shadows. His was the same. Bill's however, looked triangular as it flickered around on the pavement. "Your shadow's weird again." 

"Yeah, because that doesn't unnerve me or anything while I’m mentally preparing myself to be hated at this party." Bill scowled at him. "I'm  _aware_  my shadow's weird. It's weird a good portion of the day, and has been for the bulk of my life." 

Stanley threw his arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Bill. I shouldn't have brought it up." 

"It's okay. I know you don't mean anything bad about it. You're just worried about me." He checked the time on his phone and winced. "C-come on. It's getting late. Let's go face the music." 

He nodded and stood up, helping Bill to his feet. They walked in silence, side by side, stepping over the curb and on to the grass. It crunched beneath their feet as they went. Kids ran by them, people talked as if they were not there. At one point, Bill vanished from his side vision, but he still heard him walking a few steps behind. Stanley kept his eyes focused on going forward until he heard the familiar sound of his mother's voice, bellowing out his name over the noise of the party. She came running over to him, hugging him hard, and showering his face in kisses. "Ma!" He threw his arms around her, tears streaming down his face. "It's me, Ma!" 

"Stanley, oh my Stanley! You came home! You look so good! And look, you're wearing a bow tie- my son got so handsome!! But look at this hair, it's so long! Do you want me to cut it for you? ...Or do the ladies like it long? Remember all those haircuts I gave you when you were little? I-" 

"Hey, hey. Knock it off. Don't coddle him. He's a man now, right?" There he was. Filbrick Pines lumbered through the crowd, standing behind his mother. His voice was as gruff as it was on the night he was thrown out of the house.  Stanley took a step back. " _Right_?" 

Bill's hand was on his back in an instant. The gesture felt warm through his dress shirt. He took a deep breath and frowned. "Hell yeah I am. I'm more than that. I'm Stanley Pines, Man of Mystery. Business owner. Town darling. I'm a success." 

"I see. Is that Stanford's boyfriend behind you?" 

Stanley's arm instantly went up to block Bill. "Yeah, what of it?" 

Bill pushed Stanley's arm down. He gave him a smile before turning his attention on Filbrick. "My name is Bill." 

"Dad, what are you doing?" Stanford pushed through the circle, followed by Fiddleford. "You said you wouldn't bother Bill-" 

"I said I wouldn't bother your boyfriend if he was worth anything. And this skinny stick pretty boy doesn't look he's worth the cost to get him here. I don't even need to meet him, I can tell just by looking that this one's as big a failure as your good for nothing brother." Filbrick's thick finger poked Bill right in the middle of his chest. "What, are you planning on riding on his coat tails, you damn gold digger? Well you got another thing coming-" 

Stanley's hand lashed out and pushed Filbrick's prodding hand away from Bill. Both men stared at each other. Stanley rolled his shoulders and got down low, while Filbrick rolled up his sleeves. Stanford was rooted on the spot, looking from his father to his brother, and then to Bill. Bill, who seemed to be the only one keeping calm. Their mother was covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face "Gentlemen." Bill cleared his throat, and placed his hand on Stanley's shoulder. Stanley eased up, and looked at Bill. He gave Stanley the smallest of smiles. It was enough to get him to ease up. "Please, all of this trouble over me seems hardly necessary. Mr. Pines, you box, correct? Well. How about we have a match right here, right now? I know you've already judged me as worthless, so why don't you see if you're right?" 

"Alright. At least he's logical." 

Stanley stepped to the side, standing next to his mother. "Hey Ma, it'll be okay. I'm sorry we ruined the party in under five minutes." 

"It's alright, Stanley- I'm just glad you're here." She placed her hand on his arm. "Is... is Bill trained in any type of fighting? Is this okay?" 

"Yeah Ma, don't worry. ...Bill can hold his own. I mean, he doesn't look like it because he's stringy. You'll see." 

"You think I'm gonna allow you to just come into Stanford's life and bleed him dry- you got another thing coming. I'm going to beat the crap out of you so bad you'll  _never_ come back!" He took a swing, but Bill leaned to the side to avoid it. He swung, and swung, and swung once more, never landing a blow. 

After a few more misses, Bill's hand shot out and grabbed Filbrick's fist. He wrenched his arm behind his back, spinning him around in the process. He pushed him away with a hard shove that sent Filbrick tumbling forward. "Enough." 

Filbrick whipped around, shoulders heaving as he huffed out his response. "Don't you dare try to tell me when I've had enough, boy! I'll tell you when I've had enough of a fight!" Filbrick's arm went back, drawing in force for a right hook. His fist sailed through the air. Bill did not move, letting the punch connect with his jaw. Filbrick's hand crumbled as if he hit a brick wall instead of a face of flesh and bone. The howl he let out traveled over the park. 

"That's enough, Filbrick! Let's get your hand in some ice. You lost, suck it up!" Ma Pines grabbed his arm, hauling him away from Bill. 

"He ain't human, there's no way that guy's human! It's like he's made out a bricks! Nobody's face is like that! Nobody!" 

Bill's cheeks flushed at the words, and he lowered his gaze to stare at the grass and slowly shuffling feet as they moved away. He recognized Stanford's worn brown dress shoes approaching his own. "Hey Fordsy. I'm-I'm sorry I ruined your party. And probably your dad's hand." He swallowed. 

"That's all his fault. It's not yours." Stanford frowned and took Bill's hand. "C'mon. You and Stanley are probably hungry. ...Lord, I hope you're not hungry, the food's not very good, as I feared." 

"Aw, I'm sure Bill will like it. He ate huge spider not too long ago. Pretty sure anything's a step up from that." Fiddleford joined Bill's other side, along with Stanley. "Maybe we can get into the cake. What's a family brawl without a nice hunk a cake?" 

"I don't know, if the cake's got a capacious amount of alcohol I'm down. Oh, you didn't ruin the party by the way." Stanley shook his head. "This is pretty normal for us. There's usually at least one fight at a Pines family gathering. Usually it is dad causing it." 

They wound up at a picnic table by the food, with four large cake slices on paper plates. Stanley was seated on the bench, next to Bill who decided the table top itself was the best spot to sit. The party was milling about them, with a passerby coming to speak to Stanford every now and then. They ignored Stanley, Bill and Fiddleford. It made Stanley frown, but the less drama there was, the better. Everything was fine, save for one small boy staring them down from a few feet away. "Hey, Sixer. Is that...?" 

"Yes, Stanley. That's Shermie." Stanford waved at him. Shermie came over to them, smiling broadly. "Hello Shermie. Come and hang out with us. This Stanley."  

Shermie went over to Stanford, sitting on the bench. He peered over at Stanley, one hand firmly grasping Stanford's shirt. "Hi Stanley." 

"H-Hey kid." Stanley gave him a slight wave. "I'm your brother." 

"I know. And that's Bill. I recognized him from your drawings. But he doesn't have six arms!" 

"Shermie!" Stanford's face turned a bright red. "You—you  _looked at my drawings_."  

"Uh-huh! You had them in a locked drawer, but I know how to pick locks." 

Stanford uttered a humiliated sound and hid his face in his hands. "No one was supposed to see  _those_." 

"Oh oh! Can  _I_  see these drawings of me?" Bill grinned and set his cake down. "I'm the subject matter, so I  _should_ get to see them."  

Shermie reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up drawing. "This one was on the desk so I took it before Dad could see it. Stanford should be more careful with his drawings. ...But... You're pretty like in all the pictures."  

"D'aw. I like this kid." He plucked the picture from him, dodging Stanford's wild attempts to get the paper back. He unfolded it, and his grin widened. "Geez, Stanford. You  _flatterer_. But I have a birthmark there. Maybe you'll get lucky enough to see it." He handed the drawing to Stanford, who snatched it up quickly.  

"B-birthmark?" He unfolded it as if the paper might explode, finding it to be a simple drawing of Bill-- fully clothed. "Oh, I... this... this is one of the...  _never mind_."  

"Ooohhh, I knew it. You have naughty drawings of me!" Bill's grin nearly split his face. "And here I didn't have to pose for them like one of your French girls. Now you  _have_  to show me them!" 

Stanford made a long groan of a sound, sinking underneath the table. "They're not anything fun like you think they are, they're just anatomy drawings. I was trying to figure out your additional arms." 

"He still doesn't have six arms!" Shermie was pouted, and pointed an accusing finger at Stanford who was still under the table. "You lied in your art." 

"Um, yeah. Adults do that all the time, kid." Bill shrugged a shoulder. "I only have two arms, but I do an illusion to make it  _look_  like I have six arms. It's your brother's favorite trick. Clearly, since he's drawn so many pictures trying to figure it out." 

"O-oh. You do magic. Ma doesn't do magic for her clients, but that makes sense if you have your own shop. I'm sorry I called you a liar, Stanford. I just thought... I don't know, I thought Bill had magic powers, or something." 

"I ah... I am sorry I lead you to believe that, Shermie. Bill is a very talented illusionist." Stanford cleared his throat. Slowly, he came from underneath the table and sat beside Stanley once more. "That is how we met. He was doing magic tricks in his shop." 

"I was slacking off instead of cleaning." Bill shrugged a shoulder. "Did you know I wasn't allowed to open up my shop that day? Your brother Stanley was dead set on me not being open that day so I wouldn't be a distraction to Stanford."  

"Yeah, that worked out  _real_  well. Sixer went inside any way. Like he  _knew_  he had to be in there." Stanley shook his head. He watched Ford and Bill joke around with Shermie, who seemed to be eating up the attention. Eventually, he ran off to go play with some of the other kids at the party. They remained at the table, as more guests came up to greet Stanford. Stanley sat up on the table top with Bill, settling in right by his side. He offered some strained smiles to guests who did the same, never saying much beyond an awkward "hello". As soon as the last well-wisher left, their mother carefully approached the picnic table with a cold compress in hand. 

"Hi boys, I'm sorry it took me awhile to get back over here. I had to take your father back to the house to rest his hand. I figured I'd get this ice pack for Bill's face. It has to hurt. That was Filbrick's best punch. He won a lot of matches with that move."  

"Oh no, I'm fine!" Bill shook his head. "You don't have to do that." 

"Men and the tough guy routine. C'mere honey, you need to put ice on it or it'll swell. I raised three boys, and that’s the truest thing I've ever learned via parenting!" Bill hesitated, pulling back slightly. He looked to her with a wide, yellow eye and drew his limbs in like a frightened child.  Ma Pines frowned at the sight. "What's the matter, honey?" 

"Ma, Bill's not had much luck with parents. I'll give it to him." Stanford offered. 

"Not had much luck with parents? What do you mean by that?" She frowned at Stanford, and then turned her sights back on Bill. 

"I've been in foster care my whole life." Bill's words were soft. "I only had one foster parent who treated me like a person. Like he... he wanted me in his family. I'm sorry I pulled away. I didn't mean to, it's just a reflex." He shrugged. "Here, I can put it on."  

"Sure. O-of course." She handed the ice pack over to Bill. She watched him press it to the wrong side of his face. "Your face really doesn't hurt you at all?"  

Slowly Bill lowered the pack and shook his head. "I'm sorry." He bowed his head and handed her the pack in his trembling hands. 

"Oh—oh no, no. Please don't be sorry, honey. It's not your fault." She took it from him and placed the compress on the ground. "Can... Can I give you a hug?" 

Bill remained hunched over his own limbs as he eyed her. He dug his fingers into his shirt, squeezing the material tightly as he stared at her. After a few minutes passed, he gave a slow, heavy nod. "Okay." 

Stanley watched the display holding his breath the entire time. His mother's arms circled around Bill, and he did not fight it. Instead of stiffening up like he expected him to, Bill melted into her arms. She stood there, holding him while he remained silent. 

"There, there sweetheart. I'm sorry about my husband. Next time you and Stanley come over, he'll be better.  _It'll_ be better. You know, Stanford, why don't you and Bill go down to the beach like you wanted? I've got my Stanley here, and Fiddleford for help. We can handle the rest of the party. You should get in some time to yourselves, and it's been a busy day." She let Bill go, who went to wipe his wet cheek with the palm of his hand. "You're such a stubborn young man, Bill. But you'll ice your face when you get back?" 

Bill nodded. He got off the picnic table, reaching out to take Stanford's hand. 

"Have fun!" Stanley waved to them. "I've got some catching up to do with Ma and Shermie anyway. Don't be too long though, we have to leave early to get started on the drive back home." 

- 

"We're almost there. It's not far from the park." Stanford said while they walked across the grass toward the beach. Bill was silent the entire way, and held a distant look in his eye. He caught the gaze and squeezed his hand harder. "I'm so sorry about this, about my dad. I thought he would behave, I thought he'd give you more of a chance than what he actually did. I couldn't even move, I was shocked he would just... break his promise to at least get to know you. I didn't know what to do. Stanley knew what to do."  _He always knows what to do._ "W-well, maybe he'll be better next time. I don't know why Ma stays with him. I wish I could say things are vastly better than before, but I'll settle for decently better. Stanley saw Ma, and met Shermie." Bill squeezed his hand, and he let out a sigh. "And once you see the ocean, it'll be alright. I know you're going to love it. ...I can't tell you how much it means to me that you came to this. One day, I promise I'll do something just as great for you." 

The grass beneath their feet slowly became sand. The ocean soon greeted them, spread out endlessly over the horizon. Colors streaked across the sky in a vivid sunset, blanketing the sky in pinks and purples. Waves chased each other toward the beach, crashing down on the sand and spilling foam along the shore. A breeze went past them, warm and smelling of salt and fresh air. No one was around at the beach either, for the moment, it was private. "Look, Bill! There it is!" Stanford tugged on his hand, and turned around to look at him. 

His stared at the water, his expression slowly softening as the vacant look melted off his face. His fingers unwound from Stanford's grasp. He stepped firmly on the sand, rocking back and forth on it as if to test the texture under his weight. Without warning, he ran straight for the water with Stanford trailing behind him. "Billlll! Bill, wait! What are you doing?!" He skidded to a stop on the sand, watching as Bill went straight into the water, it sloshing around his legs as he waded in without a care. The waves swallowed him whole. 

"Ohhh oh no. No no no." He kicked off his shoes and socks, whipped off his belt, and tossed his tie away. He ran right for the water, stopping when Bill exploded right out of the water and into the air. The remaining sun lit him from behind, obscuring the object  Stanford looked up to watch as water poured down from him. His hair was drenched, sticking to the sides of his face. Bill flicked his curly hair back, sending droplets of water everywhere. With one shiver and a shake, he was completely dry. Stanford's arms hung at his sides, his mouth agape as Bill landed beside him. "Y-you- you're--"  

"I'm at the beach! I... I really am a good person! Oh, I brought you this fish as a present." He pushed the flopping creature into Stanford's arms. "I've named him Teeth." 

Stanford looked down at the fish as it madly fought him to get free. It was a good sized fish, and when it struck him in the chest, it snapped him out of his daze quickly. "Oh geez! Okay, I'm going to put it-er... Teeth back now." He placed the fish into the water, watching it swim back home. "Th-thank you, Bill." 

"The ocean is amazing!" Bill grabbed his wrists, his eye shining brightly at him. "Let's go back in the water!"  

"But I don't have any other clothes-" 

"I'll dry you off with magic."  

"Deal." Stanford went in with Bill, laughing all the way. As soon as the ocean water hit him, time lost all meaning. It wasn't until he was laying on the sand, watching the stars blink back at him that he realized it was now night. Bill's head was resting on his shoulder, a look of peace present on his face. "May I ask you a question?" 

"Only if I may ask one in return."  

"Certainly." Stanford's fingers combed their way into the wet sand. "...When did Stanley find out about your powers?" 

"Hm. Well. He kind of always knew. We met in the trunk of a car, and I got us out of it. He figured me out pretty quick. He never bothered to bring it up, however. I don't know if it was out of being polite, or maybe some form of denial. I know he's noticed my shadow changing, or vanishing completely on and off throughout the years. I see him looking at it. And he helps me out with my weird dream messages. Stanley's not a stupid man. He's very perceptive. ...Which is why he's a great con artist." 

"I... I see." Stanford nodded. "What do you want to ask me?" 

"Are you still mad at him for the science fair?" 

"O-Oh. Oh no. Of course I'm not. I... I did hold a bunch of resentment toward him up until I went to Gravity Falls, but after finding out some of what he went through, I couldn't hold on to that anymore. I had no idea what he was up to all of these years and I'm mad at myself for holding on to that for as long as I did. I still graduated, with doctorates, from a fine college. It wasn't my ideal university, but it really didn't matter in the end. Is... Is Stanley mad at me at all?" 

"Nope. He's happy you're back. He was super nervous when you came back though. All he wanted to do was be able to go home again." 

"That... that does not make me feel better." Stanford frowned. "May I ask one more?" 

"Hah. Of course. What's on your mind, IQ?" 

"When my dad hit you, did you really not feel it? I've felt your face before, and you are  _not_ made of bricks. ...Sorry if that was weirdly put, by the way." 

"Nah, you're fine." Bill scoffed and waved a hand flippantly in the air. "Of  _course_ I didn't feel it. I'm a trained body guard, Sixer. And contrary to what your dad likes to think, his punch was fulla hot air. I've been struck harder, and way more painfully by much better fighters than your dad when I was seventeen! ...Ugh, I've lived a hard life." 

"Why didn't you hit him back?" 

"Because he's your dad. I'm not just going to knock his lights out at your graduation party. I have class, Six." 

"Oh! Wait- no. I wasn't implying that you didn't, I just... I don't know. I don't think I could have been as cool as you were." Stanford let out a hard sigh. "I have a lot to learn. You and Stanley have a good grasp on life, and I spent most of mine buried in books. I'm excited to really explore Gravity Falls, and begin my career as a paranormal investigator. My research is going to change the world!" He shut his eyes for a moment, and with a sigh, he nudged him. "...Er... one more question, if I may. It's a small one, I promise." 

"Why would I deny you anything, Fordsy? Go ahead. Ask me anything." 

"How many dates do I owe you?" 

"Hm." He brought his phone out of his pocket, bringing up the calculator. "Well. If you calculate the spider tax, the indigestion tax from the spider tax, the awful father tax, and of course, the return of my fish present, I'd say that brings us up to... oh. Heh. Don't make any plans for the rest of the year. Or ten." 

"That many, eh?" 

"Yes!" Bill gave him a wide grin. "I'm afraid you're mine, Stanford Pines. Better get used to it." 

"Oh, I already don't mind. We should probably be heading back. We have to drive back to Gravity Falls in the morning." Stanford nudged Bill gently, and got up to his feet went the other man moved. 

Bill got up easily, dusting himself off. "Damn, IQ. I love that I don't have to spell anything out for you when it comes to our dating. I love that big brain of yours!" 

Stanford startled. He looked hard at Bill's smiling face. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw Bill's eye glowing in the darkness. 

-END 


End file.
